The Mighty Samson
by Ed Harley
Summary: Have a peek inside Delilah's Bedchamber and find out who Samson's Real Father was! Read the unbelievable Lost Text of the classic biblical story. See a Battle of Giants, meet Leviticus, learn how to use Scape Goats! Twice as Dead and much Scrollier than before! All Reviews Returned.
1. Chapter 1

A/N- Warning: I'm tired of all these outraged Philistines and Israelites pounding on my door in the middle of the night! I will protect myself. Philistines, listen up- I've been taking sling lessons every Thursday night! And Israelites- I have a pig and I'm willing to use it!

Co-written with accused chicken thief and Bible scholar YFIQ.

**_..._**

******The Mighty Samson**

_The legend of Samson began in the harsh desert lands where Samson's people, the Israelites, suffered under the cruel oppression of the Philistines. And amongst the tribe of the Israelites, there was a good and humble shepherd named Manoah who wanted more than anything to have a son. But his wife of many years had bore him no children at all- so of course, it was the woman's fault..._

Part 1: The Angel of the Lord

Manoah's wife sat in the pasture sadly watching her husband's farm animals having sex. Spring had come and the heifer had gone into heat. It was the season for such things but the rutting grunting animals only made Manoah's wife feel more inadequate.

Several Philistine teenagers stopped by the fence, knowing they could be overheard. The spoiled rich girl who was leader of the pack looked down her perfect dainty nose at the poor Israelite woman. "Look over there, isn't that Manoah's wife sitting all alone in the pasture watching Manoah's bull go unto Manoah's cow?"

One of her friends snickered. "Good that Manoah's cow isn't as barren as his wife!"

"Yeah, it's so embarrassing. Poor Manoah should've married the cow instead. Well... that's what happens when you don't worship Dagon."

"I know, Dagon's great! The Israelites' god doesn't even have a tail!"

"He's just an old white guy- Laaame!"

"Yeah." the leader of the pack smiled obnoxiously. "I'm so glad I found Dagon- okay girls, cheer on three: 1... 2... 3!

We got Dagon , yes we do!

We got Dagon, how bout you?

Bottom-half fish- that's not weird!

He's got a big hat and a pointy beard!

Goooooo Dagon!"

There were three more rounds of cheering and one pyramid built before the Philistine girls decided to go their separate ways. "Well, see ya at the orgy." said one bimbo, starting off toward her village.

"I'll be there, bye!" waved another.

Manoah's wife sat there in the grass feeling sorry for herself. The cruel Philistines were right: her god ignored her. She worshiped and prayed and gave sacrifices but what did she have to show for it: nothing! She had no children, no friends, nothing to do all day long, and she didn't even get to go to wild parties like the Philistines. No one even bothered to write down her name.

"Hey there, sugar lips!" said a deep voice from behind her.

The startled woman turned to see a mysterious stranger. Tall and confident, the man had a charming smile and a jug of wine in his hand.

Manoah's wife stuttered: "You... who are you?"

"Why do you ask for names?" the coy stranger helped the woman to her feet. "Does anybody bother to learn your name?"

"No," she looked down sadly. "They just call me Manoah's wife... no one remembers my name because... I'm barren. I'm a disgrace."

The stranger lifted her chin. "It's just like the Philistines to blame the heifer and not the bull. In truth, I don't think it's your fault at all."

Back lit by the setting sun, the impressive stranger's long silken hair swayed seductively in the breeze and his white robe nearly glowed. "So, Manoah's wife, how about we go over by the stream and have a little wine?" He took her hand and led her into the cool shaded grove.

And so it came to pass that Manoah's wife called out from the bushes: "Ooh! You must be an angel of the Lord come... come to help me!"

So sayeth the Angel: "Hey baby, I'm anybody you want me to be!"

_..._

It was a fortnight later that Manoah's wife realized she was with child. But she worried about how to tell her husband of the miracle.

And so the Angel of the Lord came to her a second time as she sat the pasture. Alas, she told the impressive muscular man: "I am afraid to tell my husband Manoah, for he may not believe me..."

"Speak no more..." sayeth the Angel, placing a hand atop her hair. "All will be good for those who serve the Lord."

And so it was that on the very next day the wife of Manoah came back from the pasture to find her husband gone. And then she heard a great groan arising from the shed. She fearfully ran to the wooden hut and flung open the door. There she beheld Manoah and the Angel inside.

"This isn't what it looks like!" said Manoah, trying to cover his nakedness.

The Angel of the Lord rejoiced. "Glorious day! The wife of Manoah has come as well!"

_..._

Later that night, after the Angel of the Lord had departed, Manoah and his wife passed around a big jug of wine. And they drank heavily, until they could barely remember what had happened that day.

Manoah cradled his head in both hands. "He... he had to be an Angel of the Lord." Manoah said while rocking back and forth. "I... I know he was.".

"Yeah..." his wife agreed. "An Angel of the Lord alright," her voice went high and quivery as she started to weep again. "And oh... by the way... I'm pregnant."

_-Up next: Young Samson sets off into the world but almost immediately has lion problems._


	2. Chapter 2

_A child was born to Manoah's wife and they named him Samson. As the years passed and the boy grew, they let no razor touch his head. And as the Angel of the Lord had promised, Samson's strength grew along with his hair._

Part 2: Meet the Israelites

One day, young Samson and his mother tended cattle in the pasture.

"Samson!" his mother scolded. "Put down T-bone right this minute!"

"But maaaaa..." Samson whined. "All my friends get to play!"

"But your friends don't have superhuman strength, do they?"

Young Samson reluctantly lowered the bovine to the ground and stared at his own feet but his mother wasn't really mad. She patted the soft grass beside her. "Samson, come and sit with me in the shade."

She ran her fingers through her son's shoulder-length silky hair. "You're getting so big. You're going to be a man soon. And the Angel of the Lord said that you would be the greatest and most powerful warrior. But you have to be careful and not hurt anybody... you know, except the Philistines."

"I know..."

"And you have to remember, Samson. You must never let anyone cut your hair because that is the source of your power."

"I know." Samson said in a bored way as he leaned his head on his mother's shoulder. His searching eyes noticed a group of Philistines leading pack animals down the road. There was a child about his age trailing behind a cart. She was a very pretty girl with the most beautiful eyes. The girl smiled at Samson and he smiled back.

"And once you're ready," Samson's mother continued. "You'll want to provoke some Philistines into a fight so you can claim self-defense. That way..."

"Heathens!" an all too familiar voice cried out. "Filthy idol worshipers!" The bitter old man stopped on the other side of the fence and shook his cane at Samson. "Lustful heathen child, do not look upon the wicked Philistine women!"

Samson's next door neighbor was everyone's least favorite Israelite. The High Priest Levi Leviticus was the ranking elder on the Jewish Rules Committee and he never wanted anyone to have any fun at all. Leviticus had written laws that ruined every party, had banned every song, outlawed every game, and had labeled every tasty food an abomination.

Some of Leviticus's pending legislation included a new law that would institute public whippings for any person caught shaking hands with a dog and a stoning for any woman who dared express herself through interpretive dance.

Samson's mother quickly stood. "Elder, I welcome you..."

"Be silent, harlot!" Leviticus screamed. "I will not suffer an unclean woman to speak!"

Samson took offense. "Hey, that's my mom your talking to!"

"Disrespectful child!" Leviticus glared at young Samson. "I'll see ye stoned in the village square and hanged and burned and..."

Samson's mother bowed her head, acting twice as subservient as before. "Excuse my impertinence, most respected and beloved Elder, but I needed to report that they're having a celebration down by the harbor, and..." she tried to think of something quick. "And merchants are selling clam chowder!"

"What's this? Jews eating shellfish and enjoying themselves?" Leviticus gritted his teeth and shook his cane in the air. "A double abomination! I'm going to destroy their wickedness soooo bad!"

Samson's mother breathed a sigh of relief as Leviticus stomped off down the road. This sort of thing happened far too often.

_..._

Samson grew exceptionally tall and muscular. No one in the small farming village knew what to think of the kid. When Samson turned fourteen, the men of his village only came up to his chest, and when he became fifteen-years-old, not even the bulls in the field could out do his strength.

And so it was, that on his sixteenth birthday his father came to Samson and declared that he was now a man and so it was time to go out into the world. It was widely believed that Manoah told his son this because Samson ate as much as two horses and was constantly outgrowing his sandals. But, anyway, before he left, Manoah took his son aside.

"Samson, my boy, you must always remember these three things." Manoah held up three fingers. "Trust in the Lord. Don't talk to snakes. And never marry a Philistine. Especially never marry a Philistine!"

And so mighty Samson repeated those three things, picked a direction, and started walking. Later that day, it became so hot under the noonday sun that it was getting harder and harder to remember his father's words but Samson repeated them as best he could.

"Don't talk to Philistines. Trust in the snakes. And especially, don't marry the Lord..." Then Samson beheld a fierce lion that looked down upon him from a rocky hilltop perch. Samson smiled, at first, and regarded it with great curiosity. He even waved hello but the big cat shook it's mane and roared in a most unfriendly way. It was as if the lion is cursing at him for no reason, just like his neighbor Leviticus or a Philistine, maybe. It was super rude.

Samson was outraged. He was a grown man now and not about to take any backtalk from no trash-talking Philistine lion. Samson furiously ran up to the beast and grabbed its mane in one hand and its lower jaw in the other. It was about time somebody taught this overgrown cat some manners!

Samson growled and focused all his strength, which turned out to be way too much. The lion's neck cracked, it's jaw broke and came loose in his grip. Its hide tore and it nearly ripped into two parts. Samson gasped in surprise at the bloody mess. Then, he slyly looked left and right and just in case anybody was watching, Samson threw the carcass down and acted like he meant to do that.

As Samson caught his breath, he considered his next move. He was alone in the wilderness, there was a fresh kill at his feet, it was after noon, and he hadn't packed a lunch. Samson licked his lips. Was this a kosher lion? Trying to remember all those dietary laws the Israelite Rules Committee came up with made his head hurt.

Samson recalled it was something about feet. Some critters couldn't be eaten because their feet were the wrong shape. Samson squatted down and examined one of the lion's paws. It was big and furry and smelled nice. Samson shrugged. Probably wouldn't hurt to take a little bite.

Samson put one of the lion's toes in his mouth but unfortunately, Samson's superpowers didn't extend to the digestive system. Chewing on the tough toe seemed to do little good. Samson missed his mom. She'd probably know exactly how to cook a lion. Maybe he should build a fire or perhaps, Samson thought, if he let the carcass sit in the sun for a while it would soften up.

_-Up next: After all the warnings, Samson had to go and fall in love with a Philistine girl!_


	3. Chapter 3

_After months of showing off feats of strength, battling monsters, and being a general heroic figure, Samson became lonely and decided to get a wife. The first step was to find a gift for the future Mrs. Samson._

Part 3: The Wedding

Samson searched the hills for flowers and then he unexpectedly came upon the ribcage of the same lion he had once slayed. And strangely, inside the not too stinky carcass was a swarm of honeybees.

Sweets for my sweetums, thought Samson, and he collected the honey and went to find his bride to be.

Samson came upon the outskirts of a village and he saw a beautiful girl tending sheep. He swore it must be the same girl he saw years before! Samson thought she'd be a perfect wife so he ran down into the pasture and scooped her up in his arms. The mighty warrior threw the young woman over his shoulder and ran all the way back home.

It was evening by the time Samson arrived. "Father!" Samson called out, setting the worn-out young lady on the ground and knocking enthusiastically on the door. "Ma... dad... come outside! I've found a wife!"

Manoah lit an oil lamp and came to the door. "What is it, son?" His mother also stepped outside and looked at the big eyed girl who sat exhausted on the ground.

Together his parents looked skeptically at the girl. "So, who is this?"

"Isn't she great?" Samson had a big proud smile. "I found her this afternoon!"

Manoah squinted. "But who is she?"

"She's... uh..." Samson halted and then laughed. "You know, I haven't really talked to her yet."

"Samson..." Manoah took his son aside. "This girl doesn't even look Jewish."

"Really?"

Manoah sighed at his thick-headed son. "Yeah really. Didn't you notice the painted lips and the pierced ears?"

Samson cocked his head curiously. "Ooh... would you look at that."

His mother had gotten a good look at the girl too. "Samson!" she whispered loudly. "That girl's got a tattoo from the Philistine High School! Why can't you find a nice Jewish girl?"

Samson shrugged. "Well... too late now! I mean, I carried her all the way out here, and I'm really in love with... um... whatever her name is." Samson thought of something. "Oh, by the way, I found some great honey!" He reached into his pack and pulled out a ceramic jar. "Here, try some!"

Manoah sniffed the honeycomb. "Has an odd smell to it."

His mother took a nibble. "... a strange flavor."

Manoah's brow furrowed after he tried some. "So Samson, where did you get this honey?"

Samson averted his eyes. "Oh, you know, in the wilderness, out there... yeah."

_..._

There was a great wedding celebration where both sides of the family gathered to watch Samson and what's-her-name get married. But Samson didn't find the Philistines to be very friendly at all. After hearing the snide remarks of the Philistine men about how smart they were, Samson decided to beat them with a riddle they couldn't possibly get.

First, he convinced them to wager thirty sets of fine clothes. If they could solve his riddle within seven days he would pay each of them a set of clothes but if the Philistine men couldn't answer Samson's riddle then they would owe him thirty sets of clothes. The arrogant and vain men agreed quickly and Samson looked forward to greatly humiliating the Philistines.

"Okay, here it is guys." Samson announced. "Listen up!"

He recited his riddle in a little rhyme he'd come up with:

"Out of the eater came forth meat,"

"And out of the strong, something sweet!"

A Philistine man named Noober got the first guess. "Ooh... ooh... I know, I know!" said "Is... it... a watermelon with a snake inside?"

"No." said Samson, grinning with delight.

Noober guessed again, since he viewed by his friends as being particularly gifted and talented. "A snake with a watermelon inside?"

"Nope." Samson chuckled.

Then, there was a council of thirty Philistines who huddled together to come up with a third guess. After a long discussion their spokesman stepped forward with confidence.

"Is it a monster that's half watermelon and half snake?"

"No!" laughed Samson and the Philistines men were distraught. They were almost sure that had to be it!

_..._

For six days the men guessed at Samson's riddle, and every guess was wrong, with each one being dumber than the last. But the Philistine men were not so easily beaten. Perhaps the wife knew the answer to Samson's riddle.

The men secretly went to Samson's wife and demanded the answer, lest they burn down the house of her father. Though what's-her-name was greatly conflicted, she decided it was better that her husband lose a bet than have her whole family home incinerated.

And so on the sixth night, Samson's wife asked to hear the answer to her husband's riddle. And Samson, to prove his love, told his new wife all about the lion and the bees and peculiarly flavored honey.

…

It was the last day of the wedding celebration when the leader of the Philistine men came before Samson. Noober the Gifted Philistine looked especially cocky that day. "I am ready to answer your riddle, oh mighty Samson."

"Is that so?" said Samson, just as cocky. "Then, what is it?"

Noober answered: "What is fiercer than a lion, or sweeter than honey?"

Samson knew he was betrayed. He jumped to his feet and pointed accusingly. "You wouldn't have answered my riddle if you hadn't plowed with my heifer!"

The room grew awkwardly silent for a moment and then Samson's wife burst into tears and ran out of the room, distraught after being called a cow/slut in public.

Manoah spit out his desert. "Son! You don't mean that honey came out of a carcass?"

Samson's mother put a hand over her mouth. This had to be the worst wedding ever.

And mighty Samson became even more enraged. It was all so unfair! His wedding was ruined, his wife had betrayed him, his parents were vomiting, and worst of all, he had to pay off a debt to the cheating Philistine men! That was it! Samson threw over a table, screamed out in fury and stormed off into the wilderness. At that point, there was only one thing to do.

"They want thirty sets of clothes?" Samson broke a tree limb in half and fashioned it into a giant club. "I'll give'em some clothes!"

_-Up next: Samson gets revenge on the Philistines after they get revenge for his act of revenge on them for the time that they... uh... that time... let's see..._


	4. Chapter 4

_Samson went out into the Philistine lands and hunted down thirty random men and used their clothes to pay back the wager he had made at his own wedding. It was not what the Philistines expected at all._

Part 4: Firefox

Samson dropped off the bloodstained clothes, and then, all that slaughter put Samson in a mood for romance. He cleaned up, put on a new tunic, bought a goat and decided to go see his wife.

Samson knocked at the front door. He was eager to get to the bedchamber but his father-in-law met him at the door with most unwelcome news.

"Samson..." the father-in-law said. "I'm sorry but you don't have a wife. My daughter was given to another man. I uh... you see... after you stormed off during the wedding and slaughtered all those people... I just assumed you had something against Philistines and didn't want her anymore."

Samson shook with rage and his father-in-law feared for his life.

The old man tried to reason with the gigantic warrior. "How about another girl? Your wife's younger sister is very beautiful and... and she's alright with that," he swallowed hard and glanced at the goat, "that stuff you're into."

"No, damn it!" Samson put down the bleating goat. "I want my original wife back!"

His father-in-law took some time to regain what little composure he had. "But she is beautiful! I mean, take a good look at her." He called out to his daughter and a little girl, that only came up to Samson's waist, came running to the door.

"Just look at her!" The old man smiled proudly. "She's still innocent and clean. Believe me, you'll like her."

Samson couldn't believe that his father-in-law would become so desperate. "What's wrong with you?"

The father-in-law explained. "She's ready for marriage and I'm certain the girl likes goats too."

Samson jabbed a finger at the man's chest. "Hey, I just want to have sex with my _adult_ wife and my goat! What do you think I am, some kind of a pervert?" Samson tugged on the leash. "Come on goat, we're leaving!"

The old man tried to tempt Samson. "I also have an even younger daughter... just getting her permanent teeth."

That pretty much ended the conversation. Samson slowly backed away from the creepy old man and left.

_..._

Later that day, Samson moped on down the road. He felt especially low. Everything went wrong. He once had such a bright future ahead of him but now it was all ruined. Who knew there were such negative consequences to fighting a lion?

And then Samson came upon a merchant who was stopped at an oasis. The merchant was much older but he was a man of tall muscular stature like Samson.

"Ho!" hailed the man with a friendly wave. "Stay a moment and rest."

Samson stopped to quench his thirst. He drank an entire pail of well water and the sat in the shade.

The man looked Samson over curiously. "How's life treating you, son."

Samson scoffed. "Terrible! I need to get revenge on the Philistines again!"

"Philistines..." The merchant shook his head like he'd heard it a hundred times. "So, did you have anything in mind?"

Samson let out a frustrated breath. "Well... I don't know... I was thinking about stealing all their wives but..." His words trailed off.

The salesman knew exactly what he meant. "But it would look like your just copying them?"

"Yeah."

"Well then, how about trying something else?" the salesman suggested. "For instance, have you ever considered using foxes?"

Samson turned his head curiously. "Er... foxes?"

"Hear me out," the salesman said. "Just think about it. What animal kills the farmer's chickens?"

Samson guessed: "Uh... foxes?"

The salesman nodded. "And what steals the eggs from the coop?"

"Foxes?"

"And eats the grapes off the vine?"

"Foxes!" Samson was starting to like this game.

"That's right, Foxes!" The merchant said. "You need to use foxes to get your revenge on the Philistines!"

Samson sighed. "But I really wanted to do more than steal farmer's eggs..."

"And you will." The salesman explained. "One fox can be a nuisance, ten foxes can destroy a vineyard, but just imagine the damage that three-hundred foxes could do!"

"Hey... yeah!" said Samson.

The salesman framed the scene in his hands. "Now imagine those 300 foxes _on fire_!"

"Ooh- Neat!" Samson grew excited. "But wait... I don't even have any foxes."

The merchant looked through some of the items in his cart. "Young man, I have a product that's perfect for this kind of situation." He pulled out a mysterious black bottle. "Got it from a magician back in Cairo."

Samson took the bottle. "What is it?"

"Well," the salesman explained. "It's called FOX Body Spray and it's guaranteed to attract every wild fox in the Nile River Basin. Now, I know this isn't the Nile Basin but it should still work."

"Hmm..." Samson tried to read the hieroglyphs. "But that's a lot of foxes. Won't I need some kind of pen to put them in?"

"Actually," the salesman said, "a simple net would do. Just put the foxes inside the net until you're ready to set them on fire and then let'em loose into the crops of the Philistines!"

Samson thought it over. "Yeah... Firefox unleashed from Net escape! But what if the Philistines build gates around the village?"

"Don't worry kid." the salesman reassured. "Not even Built Gates can stop Firefox."

_..._

And so it came to pass that the mighty warrior covered all of his skin in FOX Body Spray and went into the wilderness. And all the foxes in the land went into a frenzy and attacked Samson.

Through his heroic strength and high tolerance for pain, Samson carried the writhing mass of foxes all the way back to a hill overlooking the Philistine's village and threw them into the pen he had made. And then Samson grabbed the foxes two by two and he tied their tails together with a torch.

And Samson lit the torches and released 150 pairs of flaming foxes into the fields of the wicked Philistines. Dry standing grain caught fire and burned in a fierce firestorm that soon engulfed the entire village, burning it to the ground. Then, mighty Samson decided to make his way to the river- FOX Body Spray really did stink.

…

Samson found a nice big swimming hole just about sunset. He stripped off his fox-soiled garments and put a toe in the cool water. Then, his bath time was rudely interrupted.

"Samson! Foolish and wicked son of Manoah!" The High Priest Levi Leviticus seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"But uh... what did I do?" Samson shyly used his big hands to cover up.

"What did you do?" Leviticus spoke with contempt as he waved his cane in Samson's face. "Did ye not burn an entire Philistine Village to the ground today?"

Samson cringed. "Erm... yeah."

The old man was seething with rage. "And I don't suppose ye happen to know what day this is?"

Samson shrugged.

"It's Saturday, fool boy!" The elder began beating Samson over the head with his cane. "You've been working on the Sabbath! Just wait til' I tell your grandma! You're gonna get such a stoning, boy!"

"Sorry, I... ouch... wait I..." Samson retreated, fending off blows.

"You're gonna be plenty sorry!" Leviticus stooped to pick up rocks.

Samson turned and ran off. It was possible that historians would omit this particular part of his legend.

_-Up next: Samson attacks the Philistine army._


	5. Chapter 5

_The Philistines blamed Samson's wife and father-in-law for the deteriorating situation, so they burned them to death. Samson retaliated by killing all the Philistine men who had attended his wedding. And that's why Samson's marriage is a perennial top-ten on the Worst Weddings in History list._

_Meanwhile, the Philistine rulers sent a large military force to track down the fugitive warrior. Samson fled into the land of Judah, the home of one of the twelve tribes of Israel. Though not as fashionable as Samson's tribe, the men of Judah were good enough sports to hide Samson away on top of the rugged mountain called Eton._

_But the Philistine commander became suspicious and stubbornly refused to leave Judah until he had Samson turned over to him! It was too much for even a patient people to take, since the Philistines camped out like drunken teenagers: playing loud music, setting trash fires, and being a general nuisance._

_Driven to the edge of insanity, the men of Judah worked out a deal where Samson would be turned over to the Philistines if the rowdy soldiers would just leave already!_

…

Part 5: The Main Event

The men of Judah bound Samson and took him inside the walls of one of their cities. They tied him to a thick wooden post in the center of an open courtyard where merchants sold livestock and then they opened the city gates.

A thousand Philistine soldiers marched into the courtyard. They were the fiercest army in the land. The common foot-soldiers were outfitted in leather armor overlapped with banded metal plates and accompanied with bronze helms. Each soldier carried a double edged short sword optimized for stabbing or a long spear with a barbed iron tip. Several officers rode black warhorses and carried lances and cavalry swords.

The cocky Philistine commander rode up close to Samson. "And what will the Mighty Samson do now?" Look! Even your own people stand by the gate to watch you die. Not even the Israelites want you around any more!"

Though he was on his knees and bound securely to the post, Samson felt it was time to lay out his grievances. He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!You ruined my wedding, cheated on my riddle, burned my wife, killed my father-in-law..." Samson reconsidered. "Well, not so much that last one. But you dirty Philistines caused me to get in trouble with the Israelite Rules Committee not once but twice! And so thanks to you, I can't even go home to get a hot meal without people throwing rocks at me! Now, here I am, trapped with a thousand of you inside these walls." Samson glared at the commander. "So, will there be any last requests?"

"Answer me this, Samson." the Philistine general's words dripped in arrogant pride. "Why should a loser like you get a last request?"

The ropes that wound across Samson's chest stretched and strained as he stood to his full height. "I was asking if _you_ had any last requests! The men of Judah do not guard the gate for you." At the far end of the courtyard the gate shut. "They guard it for Me!"

A thousand battle-hardened men took a breath but had little time. The ropes snapped like old threads as the warrior flexed his mighty arms. Samson turned and gripped the post in a crushing bear-hug and pulled with all his power and the beam jerked from the ground as dust and rocks scattered.

Samson caught the post in mid air. He whirled around with inhuman speed, flinging the half-ton projectile into a column of a hundred foot-soldiers. Blood and severed limbs and viscera sprayed the city wall.

Samson leaped over the heads of two startled horsemen and impaled them and twenty of their comrades upon their own iron-tipped lances. Samson landed with an Earth-shaking thud in front of a Philistine swordsman who stood with his mouth open. Samson jerked the arms off the warrior and used them to beat fifty of his friends to death- on the spot. He always wanted to try that.

_This is getting too easy_. thought Samson. Then he noticed a merchant's cart parked over by the gate. There was a painted sign.

_'Regular Donkey Jaws: 2 sheckles, Donkey Jaws Deluxe: 4 sheckles, the satisfaction that you destroyed half the Philistine army with nothing more than a bone- priceless!'_

Since Samson had correct change he was able to purchase a Donkey Jaw Deluxe and resume his slaughter without any Philistines escaping.

He seemed twice as fast with the jawbone in his hand. The Philistines tried everything from swords to spears to flaming torches- but nothing could stop the fierce warrior. Swords shattered and shields broke upon the holy wrath of Samson. Hundreds died with strange donkey tooth imprints on their heads.

The fearful cries of the Philistine soldiers turned to cheers. Samson stopped the slaughter to have a look. Toward the far end of the courtyard, Philistine soldiers stepped aside, parting as something big approached. There was the methodical thump... thump... thump getting ever closer.

Samson recognized what he was up against as soon as he saw the gilded helm weaving back and forth above the soldiers. The distinctive helmet was a tall tapering dome with two big bull horns jutting out the sides. It could only be the Philistine Giant.

The soldiers backed up into a broad circle with Samson and the Giant facing each other in the middle. The Giant was an impressive sight in his finely engraved armor. He had a huge club thrown over one shoulder. It was his black-iron maul that he had famously used to squash so many of his enemies into jelly.

The Philistine Giant called out to Samson: "You have not defeated the mightiest of us and I bet without that godly weapon of yours, you will fall!"

Samson shrugged. "What would you have us fight with, pebbles?"

"Two giants fighting with little sling-stones?" The Giant put down the maul and crossed his arms. "That's completely beneath our dignity."

Samson had to agree. That would look absolutely ridiculous. He tossed his Donkey Jaw Deluxe on the ground. "Alright, then. I can defeat a Philistine with any weapon. In fact, I will even let you choose!"

The Philistine Giant's crooked ring manager stepped in to incite the crowd. The manager was dressed in bright white tunic and too much jewelry. His fancy puffed up hairdo defied gravity as he waved his gilded cane above his head to call for quiet.

"Listen up friends!" the manager announced. "What we are about to witness is the fight of the century! The clash of titans! Place your bets! Come see the battle of the giants! Will the humongous Hebrew vanquish the Philistine Giant? Step right up! Or will the Philistine Giant squash Samson into Israelite jelly? Place your bets..."

While his manager finished up collecting wagers, the Philistine giant posed for the cheering crowd while he considered his options. Then he shook his fists in the air, playing up to the crowd. "We will battle with farm animals!"

Samson wasn't exactly expecting that but he improvised by grabbing a red rooster from one of the chicken pens.

The Giant grabbed a large hog by the back legs and started swinging the swine around like a 400 lb. squealing war-club. "Ha ha!" the literary giant taunted. "You Israelites are forbidden by your religious scriptures from even touching a pig!"

The Giant charged forward but Samson blocked the Philistine's hog attack with his forearm.

"Lucky for me..." Samson shoved the hog aside. "I don't read much!" Then the Israelite threw his flapping rooster into the brute's surprised face.

"Arrgh!" The Philistine Giant stumbled backwards and clutched his chicken-scratched face. There was a grudging sense of respect in the eye of the Giant. "Well played, Israelite... well played."

A bell rang and there was a pause in the action as an attractive young Philistine Bimbo came out carrying a big white sign with a number one on it. Samson went back to his corner and got into a heated argument with the Philistine Giant's annoying ring manager. Then, out of nowhere, someone yells out : "Duck!"

Samson turned, expecting poultry. But just then, a ballistic milk cow hit the Israelite square in the chest. Samson and the cow tumbled end over end through the air and slammed into the wall and a two-story grain bin collapsed on his head. All went black.

"C'mon kid, get up!" Samson felt someone patting his cheek. "Samson... wake up!"

Samson opened one eye. It was the big merchant he kept running into. "Huh...what are you doing here? What happened?"

The merchant helped Samson to his feet. "That Giant just hit you with a bovine. You're not gonna let him get away with that are you?"

"Oh, hell no!" Samson screamed out a battle-cry and charged through the crowd. It was the beginning of round three and the Philistine Giant was just leaving his corner.

There were just two animals left. Samson grabbed a sheep and the Giant picked up the other one. Both fighters tried the exact same attack and threw the animals discus style. Not expecting their opponent to do the same both fighters' animals flew too high, screaming over each others head and slamming into the city walls.

"Hey, that's animal cruelty!" someone yelled, but nobody cared.

The brute made a fist and attacked barehanded. The dread-locked Israelite blocked the Giant's punch with a single finger. And then, Samson moved blindingly fast, using his pointer finger like a sword. Samson jabbed hundreds of holes right through metal armor and then he grabbed the stunned Giant by the armor and threw him up into the air. Samson leaped up himself and spiked the Giant through the wall with one massive punch.

As Samson turned back towards the few hundred shocked enemies he heard the Giant getting up out from the rubble.

"It... it's not over!" the battered and wobbly legged Giant stepped out of a half-collapsed stone building. "I'm still alive! You... you think you can kill me?"

Without turning, Samson said: "You're already dead." and the Philistine Giant exploded into a bloody mess.

…

Exhaustion gripped Samson when the last of his enemies died. He wanted nothing more than to lie down. The courtyard was now a squishy mat of severed limbs and displaced organs, so Samson figured it would be better just to walk out into the desert.

The men of Judah had all converted to pacifism during the slaughter. They had looked at each other, said the iron-age equivalent of WTF, and left.

Samson kicked open the abandoned gate and walked off toward the hills. When he was away from the city he collapsed and slept all day and into the next morning. Samson awoke refreshed. It was a better day; warm bright and promising. He smiled as he sat up and stretched."

"Lazy sloth of a boy!" Leviticus was right behind him again! Samson buried his face in his hands and cursed.

"Samson, the Lord will see your wickedness and smite us all! People like you are the reason we are in the hands of the Philistines!"

Samson groaned. "What did I do this time?"

The High Priest pointed a long crooked finger. "Look at your clothes, covered in the blood of hundreds..."

Samson cleared his throat. "A thousand actually..."

"Do not speak, evil boy! You have defiled the traditions of your tribe!"

Samson tried to defend himself. "But I'm just trying to... you know, free my people and stuff."

"Lies! You think me blind?" Leviticus grabbed a piece of Samson's loin cloth. "Look at what you're wearing! Filthy Philistine garments! Linen and wool worn together? It is against the holy commandments! An abomination!"

Samson back peddled. "I...I didn't read the label..."

Leviticus jabbed his cane in Samson's chest. "And did ye not touch a pig?"

Samson bit his bottom lip and looked guilty. "...oops."

_-Up next: Samson discovers prostitution, gets ambushed, and runs off with the city gates._


	6. Chapter 6

_The Israelites honored Samson with the title of Judge and elevated him to command the army. But more importantly, the title got him invited to all the best parties. Samson lived the life of a iron-age celebrity: traveling widely, and enjoying the local wine, food, and women._

Part 6: The Irresistible Women of Gaza

"You sir!" a merchant in a bright-red turban called out to Samson. "Try this delicious spiced wine!"

It tasted far sweeter than the wine from back home. Samson marveled at the Great Plaza. Musicians played wild music, acrobats flipped into the air, and children cheered. Wonderful aromas of roasted meats and strange tantalizing deserts scented the smokey air.

Half-naked dancers twisted and twirled to the beat. The women of Gaza were nothing like Israelite girls. They had red painted lips and pierced ears with silver rings that dangled down; and they wore the tiniest bikinis that made a man wonder it something interesting was about to pop out.

Samson moved close to have a better look. Then, the prettiest dancer walked up to the edge of the stage and wrapped her arms around Samson's neck and kissed him. Without saying anything, she took him by the hand and led him into one of the buildings that bordered the plaza. The girl led Samson down a dim hallway and into a small room with a bench and another doorway on the far side.

When the door shut behind her, the girl giggled and stepped up on the bench, raised up on her tip-toes and kissed Samson again. "So what's your name, big fella?"

The raven-haired girl was so beautiful that the big Israelite could barely remember. "Uh... Samson?"

"Wanna party, Samson? I'll give you a night you'll never forget!"

Samson smiled big. It looked like he'd just found another wife! "So, should I go meet your parents now?"

The girl's mouth fell open. "My... why?"

Samson explained: "To arrange for a wedding!"

The girl laughed out loud. "I'm a prostitute, Samson."

Samson stared blankly.

"You know, I entertain men for money. It's like a... a business deal- you give me a silver coin, and then me and you go into the bed chamber and..."

"Ah- ooh!" Samson thought he had it. "And _then_ we get married!"

"No... no Samson. We don't get married."

"We don't?" Samson scratched at the back of his head. "But you said we would go into the bed chamber."

"Samson, come over here and sit down." The whore sat and patted the bench so Samson would sit next to her. She would have to start over and explain things slowly this time.

Samson learned a lot that night. Most importantly, he learned that having a woman in his life didn't necessarily involve a disastrous week-long wedding celebration filled with riddle cheating, extortion, and betrayal. It fact, for one easy payment, he could get right to the good stuff!

The gigantic Israelite became the life of the town. He took his favorite girl out every night and they went from tavern to tavern partying harder than ever. Samson showed off in front of the girl, winning every bar fight, and out-drinking every drunk in town. People came from miles around just to see what he would do during his next drunken binge.

Over that summer, Samson and the girl became an unofficial couple in the Gaza red light district. And even though on some level, she knew better, this teenage girl began to have some very unprofessional feelings for the gigantic Israelite. She even began to think about settling down.

But all parties must eventually end. Money ran short and one morning Samson left the city. The girl with the long black hair found a few coins on the bed when she woke. She figured that he went back home to find a respectable woman. The girl wiped away her tears and then she hurried into the alley as her stomach churned.

…

Samson returned to live amongst his people, and for many years he lived the life of a respectable Israelite. Samson led the army and crushed his enemies those few times when the Philistines dared face him on the battlefield. His braided hair was almost to his knees at this point and his enemies scattered like chaff in a dust storm.

Samson often thought about his wild youth. He especially longed for that carefree summer in Gaza. He remembered the forbidden foods, the fine wine, and the girls, especially the girls. Thoughts became obsession and finally Samson made up his mind. He would return to Gaza. Samson figured that as long his hair was still uncut, he'd at least have one vow he didn't break.

And so Samson studied on a way to go to Gaza without making everyone suspicious, since it was beneath the dignity of a Judge of Israel to simply go out partying like a teenage boy. Not to mention the fact that Leviticus was still alive and watching him like a hawk. The last thing Samson wanted was to deal with the Elder and all his crazy followers. Then Samson got a wonderful devious idea. If it worked, it would make him look heroic and somebody else would even pay the bills.

Samson sneaked off in the middle of the night into the seediest evilest neighborhood of them all. It was a part of Israel frequented by necromancers, sorcerers, and political strategists. Samson brought a fistful of silver coins into the hovel of the wickedest lobbyist of them all.

It was underhanded and deceptive but Samson's ploy worked better than he could have hoped. The evil lobbyist spread rumors throughout Israel that an enemy army was forming in the lands to the south. There was the expected knee-jerk reaction amongst the public.

The Israelite council raised some money and Samson volunteered to go on an all-expenses paid fact-finding mission to Gaza. And so it came to pass that Samson rubbed his hands together deviously as he packed his sandals and loin cloth.

...

Gaza City was just like Samson remembered. So much fun, so many girls, and so much wine! Samson enjoyed them all in excess. But while the hard-partying Israelite was gaining drinking buddies he was also collecting a long list of enemies who tired of his wild antics.

One night, a prostitute came to Samson after he had fell asleep on top a watermelon stand. "Samson," the woman shook him awake. "I heard the men talking! They mean to get rid of you, Samson!"

"Mmmrmm..." Samson drunkenly inquired. "What'd I do?" He opened one eye. It was his latest prostitute, a pretty young woman who's name eluded him. Samson raised up on one elbow and frowned. "What happened?"

"Let's see... remember last night when the high priest refused to circumcise that goat of yours and... and uh..." the whore shook her head urgently. "But never mind that, Samson. You gotta put some clothes on and escape before they catch you!"

"Ha! I don't know the meaning of the word 'escape'."

The whore explained: "that means to flee."

"Hey... I'm being figurative over here! I'm not dumb." Samson smiled mischievously as he got an wonderfully evil thought. "So where'd ya say these guys are gonna jump me?"

The whore told Samson about a group disgruntled men who were plotting to forcefully evict him from the city. Their plan was to lure the Israelite into the guarded corridor in front of the city gate and then throw a net over him from above so they could hitch it to a team of horses and drag him off into the wilderness. The men were expecting Samson around noon, when he typically stumbled out of bed.

Samson decided it was too much fun to wait. So he downed another jug of wine and and sneaked through the city, as quiet as ten drunks. Samson giggled when he thought about what he was about to do. Samson was too drunk to see just one gate, so he grabbed the middle one. The sculpted iron gates were huge, as were the two wooden posts they hung on. They were the pride of the city- tall and wide and too wide and cumbersome to be lifted by any number of men.

Samson's eyes narrowed. To hell with Newton's third law of motion! Besides, who the hell is Newton and more importantly, he doesn't even exist yet! Samson gripped the massive iron gate and pulled it from it's foundation. He threw it on his shoulders and laughed out in triumph. "Ha! Now I've got your lousy gate!"

The elder gate keeper stuck his head out the window of the guard tower. "I'll have you know, my granddaddy built that gate!"

"It's mine now! Muhahahaaaa!" Samson villain laughed as he ran away from the city and up into the hills.

"You bastard! Dirty bastard!" the gatekeeper futilely hurled insults. "You'll pay for this, you gate stealing bastard!"

…

While Samson gloated over his gate, a secret meeting was held in an ominous darkened chamber deep in the catacombs beneath Gaza. Flickering oil lamps cast fearful shadows upon the stone walls. Twelve men cloaked in dark cowls and hoods sat around a table. They were the High Cultists of the powerful Gate Manufacturer's Guild.

"But how can we overcome the Israelite?" spoke one cultist. "He is too powerful! Not even the Philistine army will face him!"

"But my grandaddy built that gate! We can't just..."

"Yes, yes we know about your grandpa!" the frustrated cultist shook his head. "But that Israelite is invulnerable. He'd smash us to bits! I mean...have you seen his aura? It's like he has a power of god on his side!"

"What are we to do? Is it hopeless?"

The leader of the cult raised his hand and all the men went silent. "In times of struggle we must turn to the scriptures, my brothers." His other hand rested upon a clay tablet imprinted with cuneiform writing. He raised the tablet so that the verse could be read. The cultists held a collective breath as their leader spoke in the ancient tongue.

"So it is written in the prophesy: _Even the mightiest Bro is undone by a Ho_."

"The prophesy?" a shrill shrill voice protested. "But... but is it time? How can we be sure?"

The leader stood, knowing that none would challenge his authority. "The Israelite has defiled our holy gate. It is the sign we have waited for, my brothers." He raised his ebony staff and the crypt seemed to become darker and more ominous than before. "Call forth the Bimbo!"

The crypt's two doors swung inward with the creaking of rusted hinges. Light spilled across the stone floor and lit motes of dust that were stirred up from the timeworn tomb. The cultists beheld the voluptuous silhouette of a female standing in the doorway with a hand braced on her hip.

"Bimbo, hear me!" the leader of the cult petitioned. "The mighty Israelite Samson has crossed all bounds. He has broken our furniture, soiled our rugs, and beaten us at the drinking games of our forefathers! And now he dares to defile the city gate! Right now, he's up on the hill rubbing his filthy paws all over it! The Israelite must pay for what he has done to Gaza!"

He knelt on one knee and placed a heavy box in front of the vivacious vixen. "We offer a tithe of silver in exchange for your help..."

Delilah's silken sultry voice playfully called out: "Mmm... so you're asking me to destroy that deadbeat Samson _and_ get filthy rich? I thought you boys would never ask."

_Up next: Devious Delilah and the haircut of doom_


	7. Chapter 7

_As Samson gloated over his prized city gate, a woman from his past plotted his downfall._

Part 7: Wrath of the Bimbo

Samson set the fancy gate into the ground at the very top of a hill within full taunting distance of the city. Samson climbed up on top the gate and did a wild dance that even casual observers agreed was in poor taste. The offended Gazites shook their fists and cursed at him but after seeing his great power, no one dared confront gigantic Israelite directly, well... except for these four kids.

The self-styled crime fighting team consisted of three teenage boys and one teen girl. They had dressed up in costumes with matching capes and boots and everything.

The team lined up in front of the gate and posed dramatically. The Israelite hero chuckled with amusement. "So... what are you guys supposed to be?"

That question seemed to trigger a choreographed dance move. All of the teenagers twirled into a formation with their hands braced on their hips while they shouted a battle-cry: "We are: The Gaza Avengers!"

Samson jumped down. "Well... I'm out of wine if that's what you're after."

The tall kid who seemed to be the leader stepped forward. "Villain! We don't need your wicked wine! We are a force for good, right, and the Gaza way!"

Samson's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Are you selling subscriptions or something?"

"We don't want your petty money!" The girl stepped forward with a whip in her hand. "With our combined powers we are here to defeat you!"

Samson sighed. "Powers?"

"Yes, powers." A guy carrying a helmet explained. "You see, each of us has a unique ability that we bring to the team. For instance, I am known as the Desert Tortoise. From an early age I knew I was different..."

As often happens in the superhero profession, each of the kids had a long origin story about their difficult childhood filled with tragic accidents and teen angst. As they spoke, Samson's eyelids became heavy and he decided to sit down in the shade.

Samson felt something poking at him. "Hey, wake up! That's really rude!"

"Yeah, the Amazing Rufus was still talking!"

"Oh yeah..." Samson was a little embarrassed. "I wasn't asleep... just resting my eyes."

"Well, it was still rude." the girl said. "And you don't look so tough!"

"Yeah, we can kick your ass right now and then we'll be favored by the gods!" said a kid carrying a shovel.

"Oh really?" Samson stood. "Then bring it on, kids!"

All four heroes surround Samson. One by one, they attacked.

The Desert Tortoise put on his tortoise-shell helmet and ran headfirst into Samson's stomach. "Ack..." Tortoise called out as he fell to the ground. "Sprained... my neck again!"

The Amazing Rufus went into a rage. He stomped his feet, growled like a wild animal, chewed on his own sleeve for a while, and then he got a running start and leaped onto Samson's back.

Meanwhile the mysterious kid known only as Sandstorm threw an arm toward the sky. "With my magic shovel I call upon the power of the desert winds!" Samson crossed his arms skeptically and Sandstorm snapped: "These things take time, you know!"

The final member of the team, cracked her whip. "Prepare to pay for your wickedness, Samson!" She drew her arm back and swung the whip. It curled around the Israelite's torso and the end of it snapped loud behind Samson's back.

The Amazing Rufus yelped in pain and fell on his butt. Whipping Girl cringed, Tortoise took off his helmet and vomited; and Sandstorm was starting to get a headache.

Samson shook his head."You kids just aren't cut out for this."

Whipping Girl started crying. "But... what else can we do? We're socially awkward, we're not athletic, and we don't have anything to contribute to society!"

"Hmm..." Samson stroked his beard as he considered the plight of these teenagers. "Hey I know, why don't you try writing stories? That doesn't take any social skills at all!"

"Oh... that's right!" the Desert Tortoise exclaimed. "We could write stuff about our adventures while staying safe at home and not doing anything productive with our lives!"

Rufus agreed. "Yeah... and we could actually win this time!"

The grateful kids lined up to shake Samson's big hand. "Good game, good game, good game and sorry about the headbutt, good game..."

...

Counseling youths during the heat of the day was hard work. Samson decided to take a nap. He had barely laid his head upon his lucky pillow when he heard someone approaching him. Who could this be, another stupid challenger?

"So is that gate all yours, big fellah?"

"Um... yeah its … its uh..." Samson scrambled to get up. Then he saw her. The big seductive eyes, long raven hair, the red-painted lips, the lusty curves- she appeared like a dream from the past. "Delilah? Delilah is that you?"

She threw herself into his arms and kissed him urgently. "Samson, oh Samson, it's been so long and I've missed you sooo much!"

Samson stumbled over his words. "I... uh... I wanted to come back but..."

"Shhh..." Delilah put a finger to his lips. "Why don't we go back to my place. I just had the walls soundproofed."

Samson needed no more convincing. He scooped the vixen up and ran into the city.

Delilah's place was hidden away in the Gaza City red light district. It was a modest but well built home with one large front room that had obscene tapestries hanging on the walls. The room had one other exit: a hallway that led to a bathroom, a kitchen, some storage space and at the very end of the hall there was a spiral staircase that descended into the bedchamber.

Samson held Delilah in his arms so he had to duck down and twist the doorknob. The bedchamber wasn't like anything he had ever seen. There were oil lamps that hung from the ceiling, and a trapeze-like device that swung on chains above the bed- metal rings were bolted on at other places allowing flexibility. And one whole wall held a vast array of implements that ranged from shackles and whips to black leather collars and stranger multi-pronged doodads whose uses Samson could only guess at.

Delilah slithered out of Samson's grasp. She turned her back and carefully unbuttoned her thin black dress. She let it slip slowly at first- uncovering one shoulder and then the other, teasing Samson with the sinuous line from the nape of her neck down to the curve of her bottom. The polished brass mirror on the far end of Delilah's bedchamber showed her reflection in the flickering light, enticing like forbidden fruit.

Delilah stepped out of her dress and turned to face Samson. She let her eyes wonder. Samson was a real specimen- most girls would swoon at the hansom and muscular hero who nearly glowed with raw power. The simple white cloth that Samson wore around his waist concealed little. It reached his knees most days- but not at the moment.

...

As she had expected, it was late into the night by the time Samson was fully satisfied. Delilah was exhausted too but she ignored her own plight and focused on her plan. Delilah fed Samson the best that Gaza had to offer: grapes fresh off the vine, some succulent meats drizzled in honey and wine- jugs and jugs of wine. And then when Samson was completely satisfied, she put him to bed. Delilah snuggled close, just as he was drifting off into a sweet dream.

"Samson... Samson..." she whispered in his ear. "Tell me, where does your great strength lie? And how is your power undone?"

Samson laughed drunkenly, and muttered: "I have the heart of a lion..." he giggled without opening his eyes. "And... and to beat me, tie me in bowstrings, still wet and unused."

Delilah scowled skeptically. "Is that so? Sleep then, mighty one."

Delilah went into her storeroom where she always kept a wide selection of bindings in stock. She picked out a handful of strong new bowstrings and placed them on the bed beside her sleeping lover. Then Delilah slipped out of the house to find the hooligans that the Gate Cult had lent her. In the morning, she would let the men into her house so they could capture Samson. Delilah would be cautious though; just in case Samson was lying to her about the true source of his power.

Samson slept all night. It was in the early morning that Delilah screamed out: "Samson, wake up! There are thieves at my door!"

Samson sat upright in bed. He started to rub his eyes but there were bowstrings binding his wrists and ankles. Delilah was into some very kinky stuff so it didn't surprise him. "Be right there!" Samson snapped the cords and rushed into the main room to find four intruders.

Delilah cowered in the corner. "Oh Samson, thank goodness, you're here! These crude men would certainly take advantage of an innocent young lady!"

Samson snickered. "Who's the innocent young lady?"

Delilah crossed her arms. "Me, you dolt. Now, kill them already!"

"Can do." Samson drew back his fist and punched all the bandits, sending them flying up into the sky where they twinkled amongst the stars. In fact, up until several years ago, the frozen bodies of these orbiting hooligans were regularly mistaken for distant planets at the other end of the solar system.

…

Delilah was sore head to toe. The second night was far harder than the first but she wasn't about to let rope burns and chaffing stop her. The bimbo entertained the hero to the best of her abilities and then she fed him and gave him lots of wine before putting him to bed. That night, Delilah pulled the covers over Samson, snuggled close against his back, and put her lips to his ear. "Samson... Samson... tell me the truth. Where does your great strength lie? And how is your power undone?"

Samson was nearly asleep and his words were barely a whisper. "Tis' my head. Nail my braids to the wall then I will be weak like any other..."

And so, early the next morning, Delilah called out: "Samson, wake up! There are intruders at my door!"

Samson sat up in bed and then he noticed that all seven of his braids were nailed to the wall. Samson grinned mischievously, last night must have been fun. "Be right there!" Samson ran into the front room and chunks of mortar tore off the walls.

There were two hulking armored warriors in the front room. The two men were dressed for battle and held war swords and shields. Samson was naked, of course, and that made the warriors feel overconfident. The biggest one laughed at Samson. "Ha, fool! You not even dressed!"

Samson stepped between the warrior and the helpless Delilah. "I happen to be comfortable with my body, and besides... who needs armor and a sword when you can do this?" Samson plunged his hand into the warrior's chest and ripped out a bloody chunk.

Samson dangled it in front of the warrior's big eyes. "Look at your still-beating heart!"

"That's... my... lung!" said the technically correct man as he collapsed to the floor.

"Nobody likes a know it all." Samson stuffed the organ into the pocket of the bandit's big eyed partner. The man turned to flee.

"You're not running from me, are you?" Without thinking, Samson raised his hand and fired a ball of blue crackling energy at the runner, causing a flash and explosion.

"Whoa..." Samson looked down into the crater and then at his own smoking palms. "What the heck was that, some kind of finishing move?"

…

Delilah's bones even hurt. It was her third night with Samson and she could barely stand but Delilah was the greatest of all the world's bimbos. Where lesser girls would've quit, Delilah heroically struggled on, using all her sluttish abilities and mechanical doodads to exhaust the mighty Israelite.

At the same time, Samson was starting to wonder why every time he told Delilah his 'secrets', a bunch of thugs would show up the next morning and attack. Whatever it was, it probably didn't have anything to do with Delilah. Samson shrugged and figured that it was just a coincidence, after all, who doesn't want a piece of Samson?

On that third night, Delilah lay down beside him. "Samson... Samson... if you love me then tell me no lies. Where does your great strength come from? And how is your power undone?"

Samson rolled over on his right side but before he fell asleep Delilah leaned close enough to hear him mutter: "My strength is my hair. Without my hair and I am weak as any man..."

And so the deceitful bimbo went and got her razor. She placed Samson's head in her lap and took one of the seven braids and began to cut. While Samson slept off his wine, his lover shaved his head clean.

It was still dark when Delilah called out: "Samson, wake up! There are men at my door!"

Samson struggled to his feet and then he felt the cool air on his scalp. Samson knew he had been betrayed. The men threw him down and bound him with chains. Samson's last sight was of Delilah, patient as a viper, calmly sipping her wine.

_Up next: Samson is sold to the wicked Philistines and Delilah cashes in._


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8: The Death of Samson

Delilah was thirty-five years old and starting to get tired of her wild lifestyle. The bimbo was still energetic and beautiful but spending three nights in a row with the rampaging Israelite pushed her to the limit. Samson's power had only grown stronger in the sixteen years of absence. Delilah downed three cups of wine to dull the aches and then she called for a servant girl to ready a hot bath.

Delilah soaked in the steaming perfumed waters and her thoughts wondered. She knew that the wealth that came from this job was going to change her life. She would no longer need to entertain men for money- which was good since Samson had broken most of her chains, whips, and multi-pronged doodads already.

There had been good times and some hard times too. Especially early on, when she was just a teenage girl and Samson had left her all alone and pregnant. He'd taken off without a word of solace- just a few coins thrown in her bed. Samson went back to his own people to live a respectable life.

Delilah kept those coins and never spent them, even when she was a desperate single mother living in a drafty hovel in Gaza City. She kept those coins as a reminder to herself of how foolish she had been to trust a man and to fall in love.

Wealth and power were what mattered in life. Delilah had gained a measure of both. Over her career, she had seduced generals, councilmen, high priests and other such powerful wealthy men but the Cult paid more silver than she had ever seen. It was enough money to change her life and that of her son. Delilah wanted Micah to have all the advantages she never had.

After a long soak, the rope-burns, welts, and bruises softened and the ache in her tendons and bones eased. Delilah dried off and got dressed. She wanted to look presentable when her teenage son returned home. Micah had been staying with a friend while Delilah laid the trap for Samson. It would be a great surprise when he heard about their new wealth.

It was afternoon when the friend escorted Micah home. Delilah gave a few coins to repay the friend for looking after her son. The boy had the typical teenage attitude but Delilah hugged him whether he liked it or not. She ran her fingers through Micah's wavy black hair. It was down to his shoulders. Delilah had wondered if the gifts of his father might be passed on to his son, but aside from his handsome good looks Micah was completely normal.

Delilah was happy, though and ready to move on with her life. She felt no remorse about betraying Samson. In her mind, she had only done what was right for her and her son's future. Delilah was no longer the emotional girl she used to be. She had used Samson to get what she needed. It was all about business. It always was.

…

Meanwhile, the Cultists blinded Samson's eyes so that he would never be able to look upon their beautiful gate again and then they decided to recoup some of their expenses by selling him to the Philistines.

And so it came to pass, that Samson was taken to the capital city of the Philistine Empire. And there, in the shadow of the Palace, Samson was taunted and beaten and made to push a millstone for the amusement of the crowd.

Since the holiday weekend was coming up anyway, the rulers decreed that Samson would be sacrificed to the cruelest of their gods, Dagon, the one with the big hat and the fish tail. The Philistines chained Samson at the center of the Great Temple of Dagon, which also had nicer restrooms and higher seating capacity than the other temples.

On the day of his execution, the excited crowd mulled about the plaza. There was no one in the whole world as famous and infamous as Samson. People could barely believe that the powerful warrior could be captured. They had to see it with their own eyes. Thousands of Philistines came to watch the Israelite hero die.

A particularly massive merchant had also heard about the big party going on and had come to see what all the fuss was about. He walked down the busy street with a giggling party girl in each arm. The merchant looked curiously at the jeering crowd that gathered at the entrance to the Great Temple of Dagon. He felt something was wrong.

He pushed his way inside and there was a slumped form of a man, a giant of man, bound with iron chains with his mighty arms stretched to either side and fastened to stone pillars. The merchant took a quick breath when he realized who it was. He sent away his bimbos and went to Samson.

He put a hand atop Samson's shaved scalp. "Samson, it's me your fa... your familiar merchant friend. Your hair, what happened?"

Samson hung limp from his chains, too weak to even raise his head. "Delilah."

The merchant nodded knowingly. "Bitches be crazy sometimes. I should've warned your mother about bimbos too- oops."

"Huh?"

"Never mind that." the merchant said. "Son, is there anything I can do?"

"Well, for starters, I'm blinded." Samson replied. "Can you do anything about that?"

The merchant sadly shook his head. "No... no I'm not much of a healer, really. That's a different kind of Ang... um... a different kind of merchant, I mean. I mostly have violence related products."

Samson muttered: "I could go for some violence."

"Hmm... lets see..." the merchant got out a list of his goods. "Nun-chucks, Napalm, oh... I almost forgot. I got this ointment from an Athenian chemist. Demigods over there love the stuff- it gives them huge strength. Now they're slaying monsters like nobody's business." the merchant paused and leaned close. "I've got to warn you though that his product isn't exactly legal- but they're not testing for it either."

"The hall of fame's over-rated," Samson shrugged. "Give it to me anyway."*

"Be right back!" The merchant flew right out of the entrance at speed of light, which, in those days was about twenty miles-per-hour.

*_The Israelite Hall of Fame was created long ago by the elders of the Israelite tribes. Its founding inductees included Abel, Enoch, Nimrod (who forgot to thank God during his acceptance speech), Noah, Abraham, Joseph, Jacob, and Moses. It would take Adam a bit longer to get nominated because of a certain technicality in which he and his wife damned all mankind with original sin. Eve is still furious to this day, since the Hall specifically excluded any person constructed from a rib, basically making her ineligible forever._

…

It was the hour of Samson's execution and the vengeful Philistines filed in to the temple to watch the infamous Israelite die. Samson's imprisonment had turned into a yet another excuse for a wild half- naked Philistine party, with music and dancing at all hours of the day and night.

There were merchants outside too, selling wine, whips, and popcorn. Some men preferred to gamble, betting on rooster fights, cock fights (don't ask), competitive whoring, and a particularly dangerous dice game that was lost to the ages called Shoots and Adders.

And down at the end of the plaza, away from the party, there was a completely different sort of activity going on. A somber line of men and women waited at the entrance of a white canvas tent with an animal pen in the back. Right above the entrance was as a hand-painted portrait of a goat's head- a symbol that was recognized almost everywhere in the ancient world.

From time to time a man in a red robe and white turban would pull back the linen curtains and invite his next customer inside. This busy merchant was a scape-goat wizard, a man who specialized in relieving a guilty conscience.

His main clientele was the many shamefaced Israelites that streamed into the plaza after some sinful night of drunken antics. Unlike the freewheeling Philistines, the Israelites had a long list of strict religious laws and there were severe penalties if a person broke them.

For instance, if a man had sinned by accidentally having sex with both his mother-in-law and his wife, then the prescribed punishment would be that all three of them: he, his wife, and the mother-in-law would all be rounded up and burned to death.

But there was a way out. If the freaky threesome could get to a Philistine city and find a scape-goat wizard quick enough, then all three of them could get rid of their sins through a quick and perfectly logical method.

The guilty parties would purchase a goat and then they would take part in a magical ceremony that transferred their sins directly into the goat's head. That way the goat would would go berserk, charging off into the wilderness with all the guilt of the act and that would leave the sinners technically clean- the best kind of clean! The Israelites would get a certificate of cleanliness, the wizard would get silver, and the goat would... well the goat didn't get anything out of it, except crazy!

But the sinful Israelites didn't get off the hook completely. They always had to deal with the High Priest Leviticus. He and his followers never failed to show up on the weekends just to berate the sinners.

Leviticus couldn't enforce Israelite law in a Philistine jurisdiction but nothing stopped him from making people feel bad about themselves. Leviticus usually stood right outside the goat pen pointing his cane at the sinners, publicly accusing them of being wanton whores, wicked heathens, godless abominations, and such.

But on the day of Samson's scheduled execution, those sinful Israelites got an unheard of reprieve. Leviticus had all of his self-righteous family and hateful supporters picketing the entrance to Dagon's Temple instead.

Everyone who entered had to walk past the jeering protesters. Leviticus's group held up signs that read: 'God hates Samson!" and "God Curses the Israelites!" and "Blinded with Evil!"

The Philistines pushed past the Israelite protesters and worked their way inside the Temple, entering into the central pavilion, which was a great domed auditorium that held right at three thousand people. Samson was on display at the center, chained between two massive columns.

The moment arrived for the ceremonies to begin and a man in fancy clothes and a puffed up hairdo called for silence. The pompous announcer played up to the crowd and pointed at the Israelite warrior.

"Look upon the mighty Samson, little more than a slave now! Chained as he is between the two central columns that provide the only structural support for this roof we're all gathered under today!"

The crowd was hungry for blood and standing on their feet. "Kill Him... Kill Him... Kill Him!"

Meanwhile, Samson was starting to feel something where the merchant had rubbed the ointment onto his scalp. The tingle told him it was working! It became an electric sensation that grew stronger and stronger, energy raced down his back and up his shoulders, building like an rampaging storm. He felt power! Samson grasped the massive iron chains that connected his wrists to each column.

Samson heard a voice, a great booming voice of otherworldly power but it was a familiar voice too. "Son, you must focus! You have but a short time! Let the power burn through you! Let your anger consume you! Get your revenge!"

The audience saw Samson rise up to his feet with new-found power. The announcer stood, confused as the three-thousand Philistines went quiet. He heard the strain of iron grinding against stone. The announcer turned but it was already too late.

Samson roared with the fury of a thousand lions and his hair miraculously grew back, violently erupting from his scalp in golden braids, longer than ever. The musclebound hero gripped the chains and pulled with all his power.

The two columns buckled inward, massive stone blocks cracked under the pressure, and the huge beams that supported the roof sagged with strain. The audience panicked, desperate to escape. Those who were outside the Temple ran for their lives as giant blocks fell to the ground and a great cloud of dust and smoke mushroomed into the sky.

When the dust cleared, people came back to look at their once great temple, now nothing more than a ruin of stone blocks and broken timbers.

It took weeks for rescue crews to recover the bodies of all three thousand victims. The dead were mostly Philistines but there were a few others. The Israelite protesters, for instance.

The remains of the protestors were so flattened that rescuers stacked their bodies twelve high, like a stack of cards, but the leader himself was strangely absent. No one knew what happened to the High Priest Levi Leviticus and that was a worrying thought since a missing Leviticus could be just about anywhere, watching and waiting for you to slip up, perhaps even standing behind you right now!

…

The body of Samson was brought home by a mysterious merchant. The merchant lifted the white linen-wrapped body as easy as if it was a child. He solemnly placed the body of Samson inside the Israelite temple and then he got back into his cart and left, never to be seen again.

That night, under the light of the full moon, the priests placed the body of Samson in a tomb beside the elders of his tribe. The ceremony was attended by a great multitude.

News of Samson's death spread quickly throughout the land. That night all the people who heard of his death thought of the ways he had touched their lives. It seemed that everybody had a story to share about the heroic warrior.

Samson's friends honored him in their own way. In Gaza, for instance, the prostitutes offered their services at a discount and the town drunks stayed sober that night, for if the greatest binge drinker of them all couldn't drink, then neither would they. Even the lions in the wilderness were silent on the night of Samson's burial, they hung their heads and mourned his loss, since lions admire strength above all else.

And so Samson's body was laid to rest, but the life of Samson, and the things he stood for, was never forgotten. He became a legend that was passed down from generation to generation and finally his tale was recorded in the Book of Judges that was later incorporated into what is now known as the Old Testament of the Bible.

To this day, some reputable bible scholars and chicken thieves take a different view of what happened. They don't believe that a warrior of Samson's strength could ever be truly defeated. Maybe he escaped and somehow his spirit lives on. Perhaps Samson is up in the heavens, right now, looking over our shoulders, cheering us on, and giving us strength as we fight our own kind of battles in this world. Or more likely, he's off amongst the stars, chasing after some half-naked Philistine bimbo as she dances across the sky.

_A/N- And so, at this journey's end, I think it would be fitting to honor Samson's memory in a way that he himself would've appreciated. Drop by my hovel this upcoming weekend and join me and YFIQ in a tribute to Samson. Be sure to bring your bibles, wine and prostitutes if you got'em! Goats, and legal wavers will be provided. Until then, let us have a sip of wine and drink a toast to the greatest butt-kicking hero of them all: Samson the Mighty!_

_-Ed the village rat killer_

_third hovel on the right_


End file.
